The Threat
by StolenCompass
Summary: After three years, everything was set to normal once again.. Or so our Heroes thought.. When a kid shows up claiming he is very powerful, their supposedly normal lives will be turned into extraordinary,again.. Set to Season 3.. Just go w/ the story..R&R..
1. Murderer

Chapter 01, Murderer

The fire crackled in the fire place, the only part of the house warm enough to doze Claire off to a deep slumber. But, she knew it would be harder this time when she knew she can't go back to sleep. Not after a week of pain and mourning to Noah's death. The death, the horrific accident in Miami. People were dead, almost half a thousand. Noah, included. And the pain of it still lived up after a week of trying to move on. She couldn't really take her mind off the news that a nuclear power plant had burst into flames and annihilated a whole area full of people. She suspected something else. Someone else.

And, there was this recurring dream. After Noah's death, the night that day, she dreamed about him returning to them from ashes. She remembered his urn assembling like a big puzzle. Slowly, the flesh became alive and she remembered hugging him tight. The dream ended there but, recurs the other nights when the last thing she thinks about was her father. It was so vivid she almost thought it was real but, it could never happen when the truth was in front of her. The truth may hurt a little too much but she needs to take it all in if she wants to move on.

Then again, there was this voice who always talks to her and tells her to believe.

"Believe in what?" she always asks back but, finds out that she was talking to herself. It's not that she lost her screws or something, she always thought it was just the post-"accident" trauma. Besides, who could lose a father twice, right?

Suddenly, out of the blue, a voice made her turn her head at her back. "Hi, Claire."

It was coming from a kid. That surprised her the most so she quickly stood, almost too quickly, and faced him. "Who are you?" The alarm in her voice would be the one no one could mistake of.

"Call me Nate, Nate Duncan," he politely answered. He was about the most angelic face Claire had ever seen her entire life. His blue eyes compliment his dark hair and if her calculations were correct, this kid may have been twelve or thirteen years old. But one thing bothered her. This boy looked a lot like Sylar. She quickly pushed that thought away.

"How did you- I mean, where did you enter?" she asked, completely believing that this child might have abilities too.

The kid walked around the center table and looked at the unlit scented candles in the center of it. "Uhh, I teleported from Miami. I'm sorry to bother whatever you're doing. I'm just here to get what I need."

At that sentence, she turned suspicious, "Aren't you too young to be a thief?"

The kid's eyes widened and said, "No, you're clearly mistaken. I came here to get answers-"

"Answers? What are we? Teachers?" the suspicion in her tone was strong. "Are you one of them who wanted to get my father's files?"

"Files? What files?" he asked, confused. "Let me explain first, Claire. I am here because He sent me." To her surprise, the little boy stuck a finger pointing up to the ceiling, clearly a gesture that indicates he was talking about God. "I am here to get answers. Like everybody else who didn't know of their abilities. I want to know how to be normal. And in order to get that, I need to bring your father back to life."

Now, that was the shell shocker. Resurrect? That would be the most impossible thing she's ever heard!

"That is impossible! How can you-?"

"Just... I desperately need answers, I need to go back to my family. Before it's too late," he quietly said, taking steps forward to the ash vase atop the fire place. He took it in his arms and she knew it was heavy. He took the lid off and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and the ashes seem to float out of the vase. Claire cannot move, she was petrified at her place as she watched what he was doing. Slowly, the dust settled on the floor, making a frame of a human body. All that she was seeing amazed and freaked her out but, she didn't know what to think.

The frame became a huge replica of a wax statue of a human body, brown and sandy. Suddenly, it started to form features from the eyes and nose to the toes and the skin. Out of thirty seconds, the real man was standing in front of them, wearing the same clothes he wore when he took a trip to Miami. His glasses were still there, that simple fact made Claire think, "He's alive. He really is alive."

Her eyes started to well, realizing how much she missed him. She finally could move and with that ability, she ran to his father's arms and hugged him, tightly.

Noah hugged her back.

The last thing he remembered was that he just stepped out of a cab and entered a hotel when suddenly, he heard an explosion nearby and a huge rumble like an earthquake followed. Suddenly, the walls of the hotel crumbled and his vision faded to black. He realized what happened.

"I was in Miami-" he started.

"I know, and I am so sorry that happened to you," the boy cut him off. He did not know there was a stranger in the house.

"I... remember you," he remarked, narrowing his eyes to remember where he saw that strange kid. "You were in Miami and you were stalking me! Get the hell out of my house!"

"Don't!" Claire interrupted him. "He brought you back to life and it will be proper if you give him what he wanted."

"No, you were the one with the strange eyes," said Noah, ignoring Claire's sentence. "You were everywhere! You... I saw you glowing bright, just like a radioactive amber! You're the one who caused the explosion. didn't you?"

"That wasn't my favorite part," he said, airily. "I killed people and I don't want it to happen again. If you don't help me, I'll blow up Costa Verde next."

"Is that a threat?" asked Claire, clearly seeing the Sylar in him.

"No, it is a future fact," he replied with the airy tone again. "You need to take these powers off me so that I can return to my real parents. You see, my whole foster family died. It was my fault. I might think I'm the most dangerous person on the face of the Earth, knowing that I'll be the only one to wipe it off completely." He paced in front of the couch but, he sat down on it immediately, as if tired. "My body houses the infinite number of abilities there are. In shorter terms, I have so many abilities I don't know what else I could blow up. I haven't even discovered half of it."

There was unbelieving silence with the fact that he was honestly true to his words.

Finally, Noah spoke. "You do know that these abilities approach a state where they cannot be controlled?"

"The explosion in Miami was one example," he said. "I could only bring back one person to life, the one who could bring me to the answers I need. Going back in time wouldn't help, it will only make it grow worse."

"What do you need?"

"How can you take these away? I want to go back to my family, my mother and my brother," he said, the fire illuminating in his blue eyes like a mirror.

"I don't exactly know how," said Noah. "But, I know a person who could do that. It's just that I've lost contact with him a few years ago."

"Who is he?"

"Mohinder Suresh, a scientist in New York who specializes in people like you," he replied. "I haven't heard from him since... since we left Coyote Sands."

Nate smiled, contentedly. He knew he'd have what he wanted, now that someone was willing to help.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

'Where'd you live?" asked Claire, taking the bowl of cereal and plunging her spoon in it.

"New Orleans, two years ago, Detroit, one year ago, now, on the streets of New York. Anywhere," he replied. "No, don't be shocked. My auntie tells me to change address every week to avoid being chased by those people who want to dissect me."

"Dissect you? I thought the Primatech facility burnt down long ago, so did Pinehearst?" said Claire, looking at Noah in disbelief.

"What're you talking about? I haven't heard of any of those companies," said Nate. "I'm talking about someone else. Someone more powerful than... me."

Then, suddenly, things were scrambling on the second floor of the Bennet house. "It's your mother," Nate remarked surely.

"She's awake now," said Nate, "I put her into deeper sleep because I thought she'd be a distraction. She might be a little shocked that Noah was alive now."

As they were talking, Claire heard footsteps from upstairs; surely, Sandra was awake. She could've heard what they were talking about. Nate smiled as she was finally downstairs; an ashen expression was etched on her face as if she had seen a ghost.

"Noah," she whispered. Noah smiled at her for the first time in weeks after his death. She stood there, petrified at the sighting of someone supposed to be dead. So Noah took the initiative to walk to her and embrace her, to let her know that everything is real and tangible.

"How did this happen? " she asked, frantically.

Suddenly, Sandra took her attention to Nate as if she was struck by lightning. "Who are you?"

"I forgot to introduce myself," he said, "My name is Nate Duncan."

"Nate, you were special, too? You brought my husband back to life?"

"Yes, and I did that because I need him to answer my questions," he replied, politely nodding his head.

She didn't look confused at all as if she understood why this happened, not that she really knew. "Look, thank you for bringing him back to us, we appreciate it with all of our hearts. But, we barely know you. For all I know of special people, some could be dangerous and most of whom I've met was."

"Mrs. Bennet," said Nate, "I am completely in control of my abilities—

"No, you're not," said Noah.

"Alright, I'm not," he chuckled jokingly. "But, I know I would be with your help. That's why I am here, mister Bennet."

Noah looked at him for the longest time and after, Nate turned away to leave, a smile lingering on his lips. The reason, unknown.

"Wait," called Sandra, "Where will you go?"

Nate turned around to face them once again, "Nowhere. My house was burnt down, my foster brother and sister and mother dead, I should find an orphanage to stay into and probably, destroy."

"Destroy?" said Sandra, alarmed.

"Didn't I tell you? I was the one who blew up Miami, I accidentally killed them," the deadly tone was back again, it spooked Claire out. She couldn't help but to imagine that the boy was Sylar. It was hard to have a mind reader around; he could read what supposedly was private. "The first orphanage I had before they adopted me, I blew it up."

Sandra looked at him with suspicious thoughts and Nate tried not to hear them. "And what are you here for? To get what Claire has? To kill us?"

"Kill... you?" he scoffed and smiled deviously, "Why that would be a waste of my time. Why did I even put him back to life if I would come here to kill all of you? I am here for answers and it looks as if you have none so I prefer to leave than to waste any more lives."

"You don't have a home," said Claire, hesitating at what she was about to say. "You... you could stay here." She looked at his parents for approval. Sandra smiled slightly but Noah glared at her. "He brought you back to life, don't you have any gratitude? You should, at least, help him."

"Listen, Claire, he's a dangerous person, he should be in Level Five with all the rest," said Noah, flailing up his arms and noticing that he had difficulty doing so.

"I forgot to tell you to be careful with your body for awhile," said Nate. "It is getting used to the regeneration thing and since you're from ashes, you need to be more than extra careful. You could turn back to ashes of you continue to stress yourself," there was a hint of laughter in his voice that annoyed Noah a little.

"You know what, you should be thankful he even resurrected you," Claire looked at him.

"He only did that because he thought I know the answers to his questions—"

"And you prefer to die than to answer his questions?" Claire made his point to Noah. Noah sighed, Claire's reasoning skills must've come from him, she's good with it.

"Alright, but, when no one is in here, he should stay out of our property," said Noah, "He could damage everything."

Claire nodded and said to Nate, "You have a home."

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"You should be in bed now," said Claire.

Nate looked up from his book, The Last Bicycle on Earth. He smiled, all of the traces of being a killer had vanished and what was left was a darling and innocent impression. Claire had not noticed how handsome this little boy was because of his intimidating actions. There was instant transition from being a supposedly dangerous expression to a harmless and completely innocent one. "I was reading this," he held up the book.

"What's that about?" said Claire, sitting beside him on Lyle's bed.

"It's about a young boy who wants a bicycle for his birthday," he explained. "But, there's none left on Earth." He studied her expression and laughed, "I know it's kind of lame but I was only passing time. My mother gave this to me instead of the bicycle that I wanted for Christmas. It was my only reminder of her."

"About your mother," Claire told him, "I'm really sorry about her, and your siblings, too. I understand how hard it is to lose them."

"I know you do and about Noah, I wasn't aware that was going to happen," he said. "But, I am deeply and scornfully sorry."

She smiled, his apology came from his heart, and she could feel it.

"How do you do it?" asked Claire.

"Do what?"

"How do you handle all this? The time I discovered that I couldn't feel pain, I almost gave up," she replied. "But you, you handled worse."

"God," he replied faithfully. "He gives me strength all the time. He picks me up."

Claire nodded and smiled, "Tomorrow, I'll try to find you help."

"Help?"

"Yeah, you know? Go to the Company, get some information about who you really are, answer some questions."

Nate smiled and Claire tucked him in. "Goodnight, Claire."

"Goodnight, L—Nate," she answered.

To think that who she talked with awhile ago was supposed to be a killer, a murderer, was just some kid who wanted answers to questions. To think that he killed many people unknowingly with his hands, it was hard to imagine an angelic face behind it. And to think that she promised to kill whoever murdered Noah and Lyle, it was hard to do now that she discovered something unusual. Noah was right, the child is dangerous. For all she knows, he might be the strongest person alive. He could kill everybody. He could wipe out the whole face of the Earth. She had just realized how dangerous he is, his temper could blow up everything within a hundred miles from him. All of these don't match. How could he, a twelve year old, homeless and innocent kid, be the end of it all? They must be careful, very careful. There's only one person Claire knew who could help her with this kid.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"Peter," she talked to the phone.

"Claire? Is that you?" he asked. "You sound tired, what's happened?"

"I have a very important... uh, news," she said. "Can you meet me?"

"Where?"

"At the park here, it's not too early for you, is it?" she asked.

"No, it's alright," he replied.

"Thanks," and they both hung up.

It was still early in the morning, maybe about 5:30; she didn't really check the time. She was worried about what could happen if they get the kid mad at something. She really didn't know what Peter would do but she knew he would help.

Around 6:00, she saw Peter on the park bench, waiting for her.

"Claire," he called.

She looked very tired but the news she had to deliver could not wait. "There's something you should know."

"What is it?"

"About a mile from here, in our house, we hold probably the most dangerous person on Earth—

"What're you talking about?"

"We have a kid, his name's Nate. He's an orphan; he took dad back to life—

"Are you kidding me? That's impossible," he said.

"It is," she defended. "But it happened. It happened; I saw how his ashes reassembled like a puzzle. Then, he confessed that he has all the power in the world."

"Wait," said Peter. "How could that happen? Was he an experiment, too?"

"No, he was natural-born," Claire answered. "He blew up Miami."

Peter was speechless. He could only shake his head in reaction to what she was saying, it was impossible. And he thought it was just a power plant explosion.

"You've got to help me," pleaded Claire. "I'm worried it could get worse in the future. He could blow up e-everything! Wipe out the face of the Earth, Peter."

"And why did he resurrect Noah? Did he say?"

"He said he needed answers to his questions and that dad could tell him everything he wanted to know," she replied. "But, dad hasn't answered all of it, yet. He was worried about us, too."

"What could I do?"

"I don't know," she said. "But, the kid has a temper problem. When he gets mad, he blows up something. When he's very angry, he blows up everything within a hundred miles. Can you help me?"

"I don't know, Claire. You're giving me an impossible situation. I could take him to my custody until everything is figured out but, that's putting my life into danger—

"How about Level Five?"

"That's a homeless kid going to a high security prison; would you really want to do that?" he asked.

"What do you suggest?" she asked in emphasis.

"I... I'll take him to my place," he said. "I'll ask Suresh about it. Maybe he could help, too."

"Thanks," she said softly.

"You seem tired," he matched her soft tone. "Why?"

"It's all of these, it happened in one night. It's hard to take in," she said. "I'm kind of really worked out and I can't get sleep."

Peter stretched his arm around her and her head fell on his shoulders. "Whenever I tried to be normal, there will always be something extraordinary that will happen."

"That's because we're not normal," Peter whispered to her. "It's something about destiny that we can't escape."

Destiny is the father of all happenings. It is why people meet, why catastrophe happens and how everything ends up connected. It is why the sky is sometimes blue and sometimes grey, it is the reason why people love each other, and how they meet. It is why relatives become related. It is how water kills fire, fire melts ice and ice cools water.


	2. The Wings of the Angel

**AN: **Hello, people. So here we go, first off, I'll let you imagine Mohinder's voice saying the prologue of every chapter I'm going to write. Secondly, Nate is my personality so whoever he is to your perspective is me in real life. Sometimes, he could be so darling, other times, he could be an a-hole while sometimes, he could know so many things while the rest of the times, he's up doing something extreme like having some flashbacks or reading a book or annoying people around him. He changes moods most of the times and I forgot to inform you that if ever he'll be a real character on the show, his file would tell you that he has split-personality disorder and a temper problem.

Chapter 02, The Wings of an Angel

Among us are people who wanted to do well, who wanted to prove the world that there are still good hearts among the dark paths. They are those people whom we cannot feel because we are blinded by the bad things happening all around us. They are those people who conquered many things for the sake of bringing hope and light to those who needed them the most. They are the kind of people who chose the right road. We all travel through everything and we all travel the same path, we all meet the same fork in the road, it's our choices that differ, the way we choose which path we will take. In there will we find our heroes, the people of the good.

In front of him stood a no less than five feet, twelve year old, black haired kid with stunningly blue eyes. He was looking like he just had a good night's sleep. Beside him was Claire.

"This is Peter," she said to the boy. "Peter, this is Nate."

"Hi, Nate," he greeted with a good-natured smile.

Nate smiled and shook hands with him. "Hi, Peter."

"I hope you're good with kids," said Claire, staring at Peter. "This kid proved to be a challenge," she said, jokingly.

Peter and Nate laughed.

We have our own doubts, the doubts that separate us from being blended in with other people, the doubts that keep us safe and at the same time, scared of outcomes.

They were driving to his place when Nate asked, "Are you special, too, Peter?"

He took his focus out of his driving to look at the child at his side briefly; he was staring at him, eager for his answer. He remembered how he first discovered who he really is; he remembered every detail of his building jump, at how he thought he could fly.

"Are you?" he asked to him, mirroring his question.

"I am, I believe," he answered. "But, still a kid, I guess."

"Well, I am, too," he smiled, "But still a nurse, too. There are special people who don't need to have abilities to be considered special, you know?"

Nate nodded and stared ahead at the light traffic. The skies seemed to be alright, they pose no threat of unfair weather.

"What can you do?" the child asked again.

Peter paused. "Have a guess."

"Power duplication," he answered precisely.

"Impressive," he commented. "Is that part of what you can do?"

"Yes," he answered. "But, I haven't discovered most of it, yet."

There was a long pause, it was not awkward. It was kind of expected and natural but Nate broke that silence once again.

"Do you think I'm dangerous?"

Now, that was a hard question to answer for someone as young and as dangerous as him. Peter took quite awhile to answer. He knew that this kid has some kind of ability to know lies from what's not but he also knew that he has a deep temper problem, as Claire had said. The fact that he was revealing might be too hard for him to handle.

"Honestly," he said. "I think you are—

"What about Level Five? How is it there?"

"It's nothing you want to know about—

"Why? Because you have gotten the urge to send me there?"

"Look, Nate," he looked at him. The traffic had stopped and the skies that were once bright became gray and dark. "You need to know how powerful you are, how you pose a threat to all of us. But, don't take me wrong, the way you talk to me like a—an angel makes me feel guilty that I was thinking those things."

"You haven't seen how I talked to Claire," he whispered weakly. "She even mistook me for a guy named Sylar. Her mind filled with thoughts of violence and this guy. I must've sounded like a killer. You know what, Peter? I think I have more than temper problems."

He relaxed on his seat. This kid has innocence written all over him, the things he said were full of guilt, repentance, weakness and vulnerability. Anyone could mould his mind into anyone they want him to be. He was like a piece of clay, anything can put thoughts into his mind, good or evil, whatever comes first. He was suddenly becoming worried; Nate in the wrong hands could be the end of everything.

And the hint of him having an identity crisis could lead in some dangerous results. He could see in him the Niki Sanders he once feared about, the dangerous results of having another identity in him will eventually become a fear about what will be its future when those two different persons clash inside him.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

"Welcome to my... apartment," said Peter, dropping his bag on the nearest couch. Nate decided to look around the spacious and almost empty room which was supposed to be his living room. It was painted in dull greenish gray paint, some of the wall's paints were like ran over by finger nails, but none was too evident to be noticed. He has few decorations which counted to about seven or eight, mostly just some old figurines of animals propped up on shelves and the rest were pictures of him and his family.

"Do I belong here?" asked Nate, his eyes scanning the photos on his night stand.

"Eventually, yes; you must because no one else will take care of you anymore," he said, following Nate on his place. "Not on my watch, though."

"What do you mean?" asked Nate, "What do you mean 'on your watch'?"

"Someone is after you," he replied. "Someone keeps track on your actions, someone wants your power. And in my situation, I encountered many things similar to this, very similar. And that man wouldn't stop at anything just to get what he wants."

"I know that. Do you realize what danger you're putting yourself in?" said Nate, taking a photo of him and his brother from the night stand. "Do you realize how dangerous I am? Do you know how much risk you took the moment you had me in your custody?"

"Yes," he briefly answered.

"Then?"

"Then, I am putting myself in danger to make the world a better place," he completed his unfinished question. "I am doing this for Claire. Not you."

Nate smiled, "I am not requiring any 'special' treatment whatsoever, no. You may as well, you know, send me to that high security prison facility to hide yourself from 'my' danger."

"I wouldn't do that," he replied. "You are not safe there. No twelve year old kid is, anyway. That place is for high level criminals who committed crime such as murder using their abilities."

"So am I, don't you think?"

"No... Kind of... but... no," he whispered awkwardly.

"That's a very complicated answer," he remarked. "I don't need to use mental telepathy to say that you doubt my presence here."

"Look," said Peter, approaching him in a few strides from where he was, "I don't know what you got there in your mind but, I don't give a damn about it. I took responsibility for you because no one would and I want to save the world by any means, even if adopting a child would be a way."

"You'd be a great person, Peter," the child said, "You already are."

"What are you talking about?"

"You are a hero, even before you knew your powers. You were in a dying person's side, giving comfort and guidance to the family," there was an intelligent tone in his voice he couldn't hide. "You care for everyone, even the ones who betray you every time you give them your trust. You just forgive and forget so many times but, you never get tired of it."

After a minute of silence, Nate bowed his head and said, "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of what I did. I don't even know what kind of power that is." He looked down and sighed. The brief apology gave him away, that he don't know what he was capable of. He was the child who knew so much more than others but, never knew a thing about himself.

**PS:** Well, there you go. If ever you have a comment, constructive criticism or just a question, don't hesitate to write it. The more reviews, the more energy I get to writing this thing off. Have a good day there in America and a good night here in the Philippines!

-1039


	3. Four Years Ago The Orphanage

FOUR YEARS AGO

"No, father, but—

"No buts, Anton," said Ryan, turning away from his sons. He looked ahead of the wide window overlooking the sea beside the mansion. "When I say it is final, it is final."

"Father, I am so sorry," Anton apologized. "I was just... thinking how it would feel doing the things mom does."

"What she does," said Ryan, facing his sons again, "is nothing but waste of time. While we, your auntie and I, were planning about our future, she is doing nonsense things in an adoption house."

Ryan paced from their right to left, a grim expression on his face. "She is no one in this world, my son. She does many things that give a bad meaning to our name. She gives them money while we think about our greater good. What she does in orphanages and donation houses, they are nonsense."

Then, surprisingly, the youngest son spoke, interrupting his father, "If you're against her actions, how can you love her?"

Ryan paused in his pacing and looked at his younger son. There was utter confusion and certain trickery in his diction, but, nevertheless, childish expression.

"You won't understand," he said, but his mind screamed of something else.

"Your marriage was arranged?" the young child said, reading his thoughts.

Ryan looked at him with eyes of terror. "Did you just read my mind?"

"What do you mean, dad?" he asked, confused.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" asked Ryan, suspiciously.

The child was evidently freaked out, "I don't know, dad."

Ryan thought deeply about what happened. At first, they thought their youngest son only had flying abilities but, slowly, his other powers were emerging. He only knew one person with multiple abilities, just Gabriel Gray. No one else.

The child stood and left but was called by his father again. "Nate."

He turned around and asked why.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To my mother," he answered. "I'm going to help her load the bags for the orphanage."

"Have one of the servants to help her and stay here."

"I would help her. She's frail; no one else could help her but me."

He turned around once again and his father shouted, "You mother's fool! You won't get anywhere with her guiding you!"

"You are my father but, you don't know me. She does," he said calmly. "I am so sorry, dad."

Anton, his older brother whispered to him as he went out, "Why do you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get father angry?"

"I didn't get him mad, he got mad himself and I was doing something good, not planning for world domination," he answered.

"But, you know our father," Anton defended. "He has reasons. For our greater good, our kind, the freaks of this world."

"Oh, really?" said Nate, smiling indefinitely. "Then, go with dad and his humongous," he animated with his hands, "plans."

"Nate!" called his brother as he went out of the door to help a servant carry two large bags of clothing up the cab with only his two hands.

"You can go with anyone you want, brother," shouted Nate from where he was. "But, I'm going with mom."

Anton only followed him with his gaze as he boarded the cab with their mother. He saw his younger brother take a glimpse of him from the backseat, uncertainty painted in his eyes. His face mirrored the same expression, if only he could turn back time to repair all the damages, he could've made a difference with his father.

New Orleans Orphanage for Children

"Yes, ma'am," the manager said to Ressa, nodding.

"I want everything ready for my little boy," she said in telepathy, making contact to the man but looking at Nate. "He is my precious one; I can't bear to have him suffer."

"I understand," he answered. "The funds are enough for five years; don't worry about your child anymore."

"I am his mother," she said calmly. "I am allowed to worry about him. His life here would not be easy; I want him to at least know that many other people can care about him. I've raised my sons to be like their father and I could've wished for a better raising than that. Now, it's too late to reverse."

"I understand, ma'am," the manager said. "Everything will be arranged. The thing is, if we are to put a child up for adoption, the child needs his legal parents to sign a contract for proof, if ever they want to take him back."

"I am so sorry," said Ressa. "We are not allowed to sign a contract. My husband doesn't want a jargon to surround him. He keeps talking to me about not bothering him and his sister."

"We are arranged to cancel any contracts for you, ma'am," he answered. "But, the rules don't exempt you, madam. You can never take your son back."

Ressa looked down and looked back up again with a calm smile and said, "I may never take my son back again but, it is for his good. At least here, he can take a full step back and start a new life. Please ensure his safety for him."

"Will do, madam," said the man with a nod.

Ressa nodded dismissively and took a look to her son who was playing with a little girl in the swings. She called him immediately and held him.

"Son," she said. "Do you like it here?"

Nate took a look around and grinned, "Yes, ma. The children here are happy with what they have."

"That's nice," she replied. Then, while making eye contact, she entered his brain and said, "My dear son, you were my most precious one and I am doing this for you. My heart is breaking to let you go and I, myself, cannot let you go but, I need to. Your father will be treating you differently."

"You dreamt about it, mom?" the little boy asked. His eyes were welling up with tears.

She nodded and embraced him... for the last time. "You'll be good here... for me, alright?"

Nate nodded and his mother kissed his forehead. The manager took his shoulder from behind gently as Ressa looked away from him. She walked away in a slow motion way, as if she never ever wanted to leave. But, she needed to, for Nate and for his future. It pained her so much but, a mother must do what she needs to do for her son.

"Mom?" the little child whimpered.

The manager prodded him up to his supposedly new room though the walls were ran down with seemingly dogs and cats who had war in that room. "We're sorry, Young Master, for this room is the only one we can accommodate you."

"The room is fine, Ricky. Will you take my bag up here?" he requested, taking a look around. He hated to sound like his father when he makes orders to his servants, the sound of authority and power lingering in his voice like it was sending a message that he can never get out of his father's grasp even though he was in a different world now.

He took a deep breath and leaned on the window which was facing the road where they came from. The cab hadn't left yet. He could see his mother about to open the door but, she paused to take a look at him.

He was gazing back at her with intent. His palms lifted to the glass as if he wanted to reach to her but, he couldn't. He shouldn't. She knows what's best and she's doing that at the moment. He knew letting go of him was hard. And he understood completely.

"I love you, mom."

She heard him. And it broke her heart to leave her son in there where he would feel alone and lonely. But she had to, for him. That point was weary enough to say again.

The dream woke him up that late night, wheezing for air even though he had not been on a chase. He wasn't complaining about the couch although it was rough but, it kind of helped the nightmare manifest. He was sweating like he came from a race and his voice seemed trapped in his mouth. His temple was throbbing like nothing compared and his mind was swirling. He used to dream about the future but, this one was from the past. It made no sense at all. Was this some kind of new ability or was it simply a dream? It was hard to tell for someone like him. In his fear, he started praying.

"God, you know why I am here. I do not know why. Only you can give me the answers I need for me to protect the ones trying to protect and help me. Let there be peace tonight as everyone was sleeping. Let no nightmares near me tonight for a long day is ahead of me," he prayed. "The answers I seek will serve as a challenge to do the right thing when everyone demands on me to do the opposite. Your light on me will be enough to guide my path. Let this light be Peter and Claire and all the others as I go on. Let my mother be safe wherever she is."

Those nightmares were haunting him for days now, since he exploded in Miami. Sometimes, he could hear voices of people when it gets really quiet around him. They tell him to go to a place he wouldn't dare even think about.

He knew he's hearing the voice of those he killed and many more. If dreaming about the past wasn't enough, let it be that he heard voices of the ghosts in his past. The past he dare not even remember. It was painful enough the first time, and the pain on remembering it was almost equivalent.

His eyes were closed in prayer when a familiar voice spoke. "I heard whispers here, are you alright?"

It was Peter with a glass of water in his hand.

"I-I'm fine..." replied Nate, obviously lying. "Nothing to worry about." For people who knew him, that smile on his face was a very evident proof that something is very wrong about him.

"Are you sure? Are you having nightmares?" he asked, suddenly concerned despite the little argument they had.

He knew he didn't know this Peter, but, whenever he's having nightmares, whether he's dreaming about the future or the past, he would always have a mother to call upon. A brother to comfort him or Ricky to tell him a story. He didn't know these people around him and yet, they offer him help. Maybe they're afraid that if they don't, he might threaten to kill them.

Luckily, Peter had Matt's telepathy to know what the paranoid little kid was thinking and when he found out that he's been thinking about bad things, he quickly said, "No... We're not afraid. We're just concerned about you. And about awhile ago... I just wasn't myself because I was overwhelmed by the fact that you blew up a city. I mean, someone young..." he trailed off, taking the seat beside the child.

"I know... I understand, I get that a lot from my father," he said. When all he asked for was someone to talk to, there suddenly was an answer.

"You have daddy issues?" smiled Peter.

Nate nodded.

His smile grew wider, "Then, we must have so much in common, huh?"

"Why? Is your dad a biochemist?" he asked, suddenly all the signs of being a kid showed up that very moment.

"No," he chuckled softly. He remembered his childhood when he sees the light in this child's eyes. "My father runs a company when he was still living while everybody thinks he was dead. I came to fight against him because I know what he's doing is wrong."

"So, you fought each other? Who won?"

"Our side, the good guys," he said, looking at the window of his apartment where the city lights came streaming in.

"You're superheroes?" amazement was evident in his juvenile tone.

"Kind of..." he laughed. "Not exactly like those who wear tights with their undergarments outside, no."

Nate chuckled and all was bound to innocence. "I don't read comic books but, I actually read one though. It's called 9th Wonder. Heroes there don't wear tights and they fought to save the world. It's amazing but, my dad said comic books can corrupt my brain. He... never bought me another one again..."

"So you read 9th Wonder, huh?" he scoffed. "I read them, too. I bet my friend, Hiro, can tell you stories about it. He read every comic book ever made."

"Really?"

"Yeah, unbelievable, isn't he?"

"Maybe... if I could talk to Anton again, he can tell me stories about it, too..." he said.

"Who's Anton?"

"My brother..."

"You mean Anton has comic books while you don't? Why is that?"

"I don't know about dad but, every week he buys him another one... and when he is done, he will sneak up to my bedroom and tell me about it. My brother is very kind but, when we got to a fight, he turned his back to me and we never talked again... sad, huh?"

Peter stared at his companion, seeing nothing but longing. The smile was gone and all he could see was sadness. If he could ease the pain... wait, what was he thinking? They barely know each other and yet, he was feeling pity for him. The innocence and the cherub in his traits captured his emotions. Maybe, if he tries, he could ease the pain.


End file.
